Thus Spake the Lord
by CharlesTheBold
Summary: SUMMARY: One of Joan's missions gets her involved in an odd case of petty crime.
1. The Arrest

**THUS SPAKE THE LORD**

_(Disclaimer: I have no business connection with JOAN. My only purpose in writing this story is to have fun and maybe share it)_

_(Author's Note: This story is part of a series speculating what might have happened to Joan after the end of the TV series )_

_(This story is set during the last week of 2006, and a few days before my previous story, DINNER WITH THE FRIEDMANNS._)

**Chapter 1 The Theft **

"Hi, Joan."

Joan turned to see the huge form she thought of as Tough Guy God, standing on the sidewalk outside her old bookstore. "Hi," she said non-commitally. She hoped that he didn't have a mission for her right now. She and her husband Adam were planning to drive back to Baconia University in a couple of days.

"How are you doing?"

"You know how I'm doing. You're omniscient."

"I find it polite to ask."

"I decided to pay a visit to my old bookstore before going back to school." That was only part of the story, and she knew that God knew that perfectly well. The family had finally let her Dad and Kevin into the secret, and the two were still wrestling with the shock, while everybody else was being hit by shock waves. For Kevin it was a pleasant shock, with the possibility of his paralysis being healed. For Dad a bewildering shock, the revelation that the rest of the family had been lying to him for several months. Meanwhile her pregnant sister-in-law Lily was agonizing about what childbirth method to use a couple of months hence, and she kept seeking advice from Joan, who had never had a baby and thus had no opinion on the matter. Joan needed an excuse to get out of the house.

"That's nice," said Tough Guy God, as if she had told him the truth. "But don't be so wound up in the bookstore that you ignore the rest of the world."

"What does that mean?"

"You'll find out when you find out," He said, walking off with a wave.

Joan shrugged and opened the bookstore door. The bell rang, and a figure came out from the shelves. "May I help – oh, it's you."

To Joan's surprise, it was her original boss. After he had bossed her around for a year, he had had a family crisis and turned control of the franchise over to his cousin. Confusingly, they were both named Sammy, Samuel being a popular name in their family. Joan had thought of them as Sammy I and Sammy II.

Joan went into the shelves, picking up a book she didn't need, and walked to the register. Sammy I turned more amiable now that she was bringing him business.

"How's the family?" she asked.

"My cousin was complaining how much of his time the bookstore was taking," said Sammy I, "so I took over management again. But I suppose you were really curious about my wife."

"Er—" stammered Joan, turning red. She had seen the wife once, when she crashed into the store babbling about a dead pet rabbit.

"I'm rid of her," Sammy I said frankly. "We put her in therapy you see. Have you heard that people sometimes transfer their neuroses to their analysts? My ex-wife did that. Now they're married."

"The psychologist married a crazy patient?" repeated Joan, too startled to be tactful.

"Yes – he's crazy too – of course there was a hearing about whether he had exploited his patient's emo-"

Suddenly there was a cry from outdoors. "Stop thief!"

Joan was at first relieved at the interruption, which gave her an excuse to rush out. Then, just as she reached the door, she remembered Tough Guy God's warning. This must be a mission—

Outside, to her left, she saw a teenaged girl running toward her, something clasped in her hand. Behind her she saw the manager of the electronics store next door, pointing at the girl and repeating "Stop thief!"

Joan knew the manager from when she worked next door to him; he would not make wild accusations. She instinctively grabbed at the girl as she ran by. Joan had little experience with violence; even during her kidnapping two months ago, she hadn't actually grappled with any of her three captors. If the girl herself had fighting experience, Joan would probably have lost out. Instead the girl seemed so startled at Joan's grasping of her arm that she dropped the object she was holding, which looked like some computer component. There was an ID tag still attached.

The store manager pointed at it. "She just grabbed that off the shelf and ran out!"

"You're under arrest," gasped Joan.

"What? Are you a cop?" demanded the girl.

"No, but there's something called citizen's arrest, and I'm a citizen," she said, thankful that the subject had come up in her law class. She was a little worried: could it be possible that the girl was innocent and Joan was making a terrible mistake? But she trusted the manager, and besides, shouldn't God of warned her against an error? Still holding onto the girl's arm, she asked the manager: "Call the police, please. And can we wait inside? It's cold out here."

"Thanks, Miss Girardi. Come in." He reached for the component on the pavement.

"Use gloves," she warned. "The police may test for fingerprints." She noticed that the girl was not wearing gloves at all.

"Oh. Thank you again."

Joan tugged at the girl, who was putting up remarkably little resistance, and they walked into the electronics store. Just before going in, she overheard Sammy I mutter "Why couldn't she have caught any shoplifters when she worked for ME?" He slammed his door.

The manager turned around a "CLOSED" sign, then got a couple of chairs out of his storeroom. Meanwhile Joan stared at the girl. She didn't seem the shoplifting type. As well dressed as Joan, not desperate, certainly not a thrill-seeker. Her behavior was odd for a thief – blatantly picking up a device and running in front of a witness, getting fingerprints on the item, and showing no particular anguish at being arrested. On drugs? Joan had seen people get high before, from school, and this girl didn't show any symptoms.

"Um, I guess I'm supposed to tell you that anything you say can be used against you," recited Joan, not entirely sure how the Miranda warning applied to citizen's arrests.

"It doesn't matter," said the girl. "I was doing the right thing."

"You mean, you're innocent?" Once again Joan wondered if this was a big mistake.

She shrugged. "I'm not guilty."

"Then what do you mean?"

She hesitated for a few seconds, and then proclaimed: "God told me to take that card!"

TO BE CONTINUED

_(Disclaimer: In traditional English common law a citizen could apprehend a thief, as described in classic novels such as MOLL FLANDERS and OLIVER TWIST. However, my source says that in modern times, some states limit citizens' arrests to felonies and to actual witnesses of the crime. I do not know the precise law in Maryland, where Joan lives. For the sake of the story, assume that Joan did the proper thing.)_


	2. Meditation

**THUS SPAKE THE LORD**

**Chapter 2 Meditation**

Joan wasn't the only one to hear the girl's revelation. The store manager had too, and it hit a nerve.

"If you'd just returned the network card and expressed some remorse, I'd be willing to let this slide. But if you're going to claim you're justified in robbing me – good luck, telling the juvenile court judge that God sent you directions. Who do you think you are, Joan of Arc? Or should I say Joan of Arcadia?"

Joan started.

"Sorry, Miss Girardi, I forgot that was your first name."

"It's all right." What the manager said did not upset her. She was still trying to absorb the girl's claim.

Joan knew that God talked to another people without telling her about it. She had met one such girl earlier this fall. But would God tell her to commit an actual crime?

Uncomfortably, Joan recalled the most bewildering of God's missions, which had happened very early in the career. God had told her to smash one of Adam's works of art, and after considerable stalling, Joan had done it. It was not only a nasty thing to do to a boyfriend, but it was destruction of property, and conceivably Adam could have demanded Joan's arrest. Indeed, that artwork probably cost more money than this stolen electronics gizmo.

The reason for that mission, Joan recalled, was that the success of the artwork had gone to Adam's head and he was considering dropping out of school. Thus the destructive act had had good ripples. But what good ripples would come from asking a girl to shoplift an electronics component? Electronics might have all sorts of uses nowadays, of course, but why didn't God just give the girl money and tell her to buy the thing? God had sent Adam and Joan on an expensive mission a month ago, but made sure that their expenses were paid. Joan never found out how God managed it - conjuring up the money out of nowhere, or transferring it from somewhere else - but He could have done the same for the girl.

But the big question – had Joan screwed up? Was she supposed to help the girl somehow? Instead she had ensured that the girl would be arrested for shoplifting and put through the juvenile court system. She had often complained that God did not make his instructions clear, but in this case a girl's life might be blighted as a result.

Joan was so pre-occupied with her worries that she was surprised when the bell tinkled at the door and two policemen walked in. One was a patrolman in uniform, and the other was her Dad.

"OK," said the patrolman brightly, looking Joan and her prisoner. "Which girl is the suspect?"

They deployed themselves so that the patrolman could interview the shop manager while keeping an eye on the girl, who still seemed blasé about the whole thing. Joan remembered hearing about a Biblical story, in which two saints were falsely arrested, and God arranged for an earthquake to bring about their release. Did she think some similar miracle would get her out of jail? Joan didn't want to be responsible for an earthquake hitting Arcadia…

Will Girardi took his daughter further back in the store so that they could talk in privacy.

"Dad, what are you doing here? I thought this was your day off."

"It's not my day off if my daughter is in trouble. They called me from the station, saying that they recognized your name in a 911 call."

"I'm all right, Dad," Joan lied.

"It could have been much worse. That girl could have fought back, and hurt you. Or if anything had gone wrong with the arrest, the girl could sue you for depriving her of her freedom. You wouldn't have the legal protections that a policeman has in the performance of his duty." Will hesitated. "Did _he_ put you up to this? Or was a she this time?"

Joan knew exactly Whom her father meant by "he' or "she". He was unhappy about the fact that some deity had been circumventing his parental authority for years, particularly since Joan herself could not explain what His plan was.

"He didn't tell me to arrest the girl," Joan hedged. The last thing she needed at the moment was to revive THAT argument.

The patrolman took Joan's statement, and warned her that she might be called to testify in juvenile court. After that she was free to go, but she had another worry – having to be available for a hearing might delay her return to college.

Joan had her own car parked outside, so she and her Dad drove home separately. When she got there, Dad was upstairs with Mom, presumably reassuring her that Joan was OK. Joan drew Adam and Luke into her room, and told them the whole story.

"I don't think you should get upset, Jane," said her husband. "You obeyed the law and you obeyed God, so there's no reason to feel guilty."

That didn't quite soothe Joan's feelings. It was neat, but it was a mechanical I-was-just-following-orders. It didn't touch Joan's personal conscience. "What do you think, Luke?"

Characteristically, Luke pondered for a much longer period before giving an answer. "I think you're reading too much into this, Joan."

"What do you mean?"

"You hear a girl say 'God told me to do so-and-so', and you immediately identify it as what YOU do. Suppose she didn't mean that at all? What if she was just panicking at being caught, and giving a wild excuse?"

"She didn't seem panicky. And 'God told me to do it' isn't going to get her out of juvie. If anything, it may land her in Crazy Camp."

"She may not have thought of that. Again, you're projecting your experience on her. I think you'd be better off accepting things at face value. Make your testimony, and otherwise forget about it."

But Joan wasn't quite satisfied by that point of view, either. If there was anything that she had learnt over the past few years, it was that 'face value' could be deceiving.

TO BE CONTINUED


	3. The Identity

**THUS SPAKE THE LORD**

**Chapter 3 The Identity**

Joan walked down the sidewalk in her old working neighborhood downtown. She hated to be taking up her last of her holidays doing this, but she felt that she needed more background knowledge.

At the end of her conversation with Adam and Luke, she had belatedly realized that she did not even know the name of the girl she had caught. She had asked her Dad, realizing that the police would have taken the name immediately, but he was uncooperative.

"This is a juvenile case, Joan, and we're not allowed to release names."

"But I'm already involved."

Will had shaken his head. "All the more reason I can't discuss it. You're a witness and I don't want to taint your testimony. It could cause dismissal of the charges."

Joan understood where her Dad was coming from, but she wasn't as interested in the integrity of the court case. If God had directed the girl to take the component, presumably He wanted the charges dismissed – though He hadn't appeared since her conversation with Tough Guy God with the ambivalent instructions. She hated operating in such a gray area.

Well, there was one person who might know the girl's name, and had no obligation to keep it secret: the manager of the electronics store.

But when Joan got to the electronics story, the manager was talking to an anguished thirty-something woman.

"But Livy isn't that sort of girl!" the woman said. "Are you sure that you saw her steal something?"

"Quite sure, ma'am," the manager said wearily. "I saw her pick it up and walk out with it myself."

"But my daughter's such a religious girl!"

The manager snorted. "I've read about a lot of unscrupulous politicians, and they all talk about how religious they are."

"—and Mr. Phagan always spoke highly of her."

"Mr. Who?"

"Nicholas Phagan, the youth minister at Arcadia Independent Church," the mother said, as if that would impress him.

"Fine. Line up Mr. Phagan as a character witness if you like, and maybe he'll impress the judge. It's largely out of my hands now, ma'am."

Joan, ignored by the other two, tried to memorize the information that she was overhearing. So the girl's name was Livy, probably short for Olivia. And Joan knew at least two details of her religious background – that she attended something called Arcadia Independent Church, and knew somebody there named Nicholas Phagan. She wasn't familiar with that religious group; in fact that the only ones really knew was Sister Lily's church and Rabbi Polonski's synagogue.

She slipped out, and walked next door to her old bookstore.

"Sammy, can I use your Internet access for a moment?"

"For free?"

Joan was annoyed. "YOU get it for free. Because I persuaded your bosses to set up the network last year, when I still worked here."

"Er, yes. All right, you can use it."

Joan got on a search engine and typed in "Arcadia Independent Church". These days any church, even the most unworldly, was likely to be on the Internet. The engine came back with the church name and address, and some biblical quotes.

"Thanks, Sammy."

"Don't thank me. Buy something from me!"

"Later, maybe."

The address put the Independent Church at the edge of Arcadia – unlike the Catholic church and synagogue, which were both downtown. It was smaller than either, though with a prominent steeple. There was a parking lot, largely empty, but Joan was a bit nervous about using it without being a member. Fortunately there were also parking spaces on the street itself, which were unused on a weekday.

The massive church door was slightly ajar; maybe they thought a firmly closed door presented the wrong impression. Joan looked inside, and the scene looked oddly prosaic, a young woman in jeans was stuffing Christmas wreaths into boxes. Hanging up Christmas decorations tended to be a charming occasion; un-hanging them struck Joan as correspondingly depressing.

"Um, excuse me?" ventured Joan. "May I come in? I'm looking for Mr. Phagan."

"All are welcome in the house of the Lord," said the woman by rote, though she looked at Joan suspiciously. "Are you a member?"

Joan walked in. "No, I'm here about a girl named Livy." She did not elaborate; if the woman didn't know about Livy's arrest, Joan didn't want to deliver the bad news.

"I'll call him," the woman said, taking a cell phone out of her jeans. Calling somebody on a phone within the same building struck Joan as a bit odd, but she could understand a reluctance to leave a stranger alone with numerous boxes and other church variables.

A man – Mr. Phagan, Joan assumed - emerged from a far door a few minutes later. He was a very impressive young man, nearly six feet tall, bearded. If Joan was not married, and had not met Cute Boy God, she might have been awed.

"You've come about Livy?" he said in a deep voice. "I'm sorry, I cannot help you. It would be betraying a confidence."

"Are you a father confessor?"

"We do not practice confession, but still I ask you to respect our privacy."

"All right. Sorry for intruding."

Joan went out the door and carefully restored it to ajar-dom. Then she turned toward her car.

"YOU! What are you doing here?"

Joan found herself facing Livy herself, standing on the sidewalk. Presumably she had been bailed out or otherwise released from detention since yesterday afternoon. She looked much more anguished than she did after the arrest yesterday. Spending a few hours in police custody must have brought home to her the seriousness of her situation.

"I just want to help—"

"Oh, like you just helped yesterday? Why did you happen to be standing on the sidewalk at just that point and that time? Did the devil tell you to be there?"

"No, it was -" Joan hastily choked off her sentence before she blurted out the word "God". She had never been so close to revealing her secret in casual conversation.

"Oh, so it WAS something," the girl said. To Livy it must have appeared that Joan had been taken aback, trying to think up a lie to account for her presence in Livy's escape path. It was far too late to pretend that her presence there was just an accident. "Well, get out of my way, now and forever. I'm only going to get help from people I trust."

With that she marched through the church door, then slammed it behind her, as if shutting Joan out from God's house.

TO BE CONTINUED.

"


	4. Spritual Guidance

**THUS SPAKE THE LORD**

**Chapter 4 Spiritual Guidance.**

Joan walked to her car and sat in the front seat, stymied as to what she should do next. Livy did not want Joan to get involved. Livy's mentor did not want Joan to get involved. Dad did not want Joan to get involved. God's intentions were mysterious, as often happened.

Maybe Luke was right – this was an ordinary case of teen shoplifting, and Joan had read all sorts of extra importance into it because of one sentence that might have been a fib. Perhaps all God had wanted was for Joan to block the girl's escape. She might get off lightly as a first offender, and meanwhile she had gotten such a scare that she wouldn't do it again. On the other hand, if Joan had not been there, she might be tempted to bigger thrills – like Judith. Judith hadn't been an evil girl, but her love of trouble had eventually gotten her trapped on a path that had gotten her killed. And Joan refused to let another girl go down that same path.

Joan was tempted simply to drive off and wash her hands of this affair. But the memory of Judith, and her own failure to save the girl, made her wonder if she was doing the right thing now, and the consequences of doing the wrong thing.

"Judith," she muttered out loud, "I wish you were here now—"

"Gee, thanks, Jojo," said a voice from the back seat.

"Yikes!" shouted Joan, nearly jumping out of her car seat and getting entangled with the steering wheel. She turned around and saw the ghost of Judith sitting in the back seat, looking amused.

"Oh, Jojo, haven't you realized by now that there's no reason to be scared of ghosts? We're quite under divine control, and even if I weren't, I'd never hurt YOU."

"Yeah, it's a phobia. It's wonderful to see you again, Judith."

"Yes, I've been watching over you quite a bit, whenever She will spare me the time," said Judith wistfully. "Unfortunately, I'm here on business."

"You've got advice for me?"

"Yeah. I'm not allowed to say much – and for me that means it's impossible to say it – but this isn't over, Jojo. There's at least one girl to save from danger, maybe others."

"Thanks for the advice. But I wish that I could have saved YOU. It's my fault that-"

"Jojo, NEVER think of it that way. I brought my fate on myself, and I've accepted that. Please don't blame yourself for anything."

"I won't," said Joan, though she was unsure whether she could stick to that resolution. "So, um, how's heaven?"

"Same old same old. When a place is eternally perfect, there's not much room for change. My only problem is, I wish you were there, but since that would mean you were dead, I'm glad you're not there."

Joan shuddered. Without meaning to, Judith as a ghost could be creepy sometimes.

"Oh, sh-sh-sh-crap!" stammered Judith suddenly, glaring at something outside the car. She had used to swear a lot when she was alive, but apparently she was not allowed to say the coarser word now that she was a ghost under "divine control". "I'd like to stay and chat, but the girl's coming out of the church. I gotta make myself scarce." She leaned forward and kissed Joan's cheek. "See you later, Jojo. I love you."

Joan reluctantly turned her attention to Livy on the church steps. Behind her, Judith was presumably making herself scarce by vanishing. Livy looked more shaken than ever. Suddenly she sat on the church steps and started crying. Just as Joan was tempted to intervene, the door opened again and the blue-jeaned woman stepped out. Joan couldn't hear the words, but from their expressions she doubted that the older woman was uttering words of consolation. More likely she was ordering the girl to get her butt off the stairs. Weeping at the church door was not likely to make the church look good.

Livy walked down the sidewalk a few feet, and then stopped, shaken, obviously at a loss for what to do next. Joan decided that it was time to intervene. Leaning over the passenger seat, she called "Do you need help?"

Livy hesitated a few seconds, doubtlessly remembering her rejection of Joan's help several minutes earlier. Then she came to a decision. "Yeah."

"Get in."

Livy walked up, fortunately choosing the front door of the car. It would have freaked Joan out if Livy had used the same seat that the Judith's ghost had used. "Can I drive you home?"

"I don't know where to go. My Mom's probably going to whip my butt," Livy moaned; Joan wondered if that was literally true. Her mother may have originally believed in her innocence, but might be outraged on learning that the shoplifting really happened. "The people at the church all said I was a little thief. I couldn't find Mr. Phagan."

"We can just circle around town, then, and talk," suggested Joan. She started the car and drove off. "Did you tell the others what you told me? That God told you to do it?"

"No. I'm not supposed to talk about it. I shouldn't have told YOU."

So that eliminated the possibility that Lily had mentioned God on a spur-of-the-moment whim. "So, what did God look like?" Joan asked, afterwards covering herself by adding "some old guy with a gray beard?"

"Oh, no, God can appear as anything He likes. He appeared to me as a young man— though he did have a beard."

Joan started. For a moment she thought the deity may have appeared to Livy as Cute Boy God, which seemed to be His favorite form for first contacts. But Cute Boy had never appeared with a beard.

"Mr. Phagan?" The counselor DID have a beard-

"Oh, lord, I shouldn't have said that!" she wailed, sounding rather like Hagrid in the Harry Potter movie. Livy was clearly not good at keeping secrets.

Joan made a skillful U-turn on the street.

"What are you doing?"

"Heading back to your church. I want to talk to this Mr. Phagan." The counselor had shown no sign of recognizing Joan. It was true that God had concealed His identity from her before – she remembered Mr. Godway producing the school musical – but what would be the point now?

"But they told me not to come back." Livy sounded as if she was on the verge of a panic attack. Maybe she thought there were dire consequences for entering a church from which she had been expelled, like falling into hell.

"I don't care. I'M going there." If Mr. Phagan was God, Joan could finally get an explanation and some guidance. If he wasn't, then something very weird was going on.

And so she arrived at the church again.

TO BE CONTINUED.

(AUTHOR'S NOTE: I covered Judith in two previous stories, IN RECOVERY and A DAY IN THE ETERNITY OF JUDITH. She now goes for missions for God like Joan, but as a heavenly spirit she cannot disobey God, while Joan can.)


	5. Dora of Dallas

**THUS SPAKE THE LORD**

**Chapter 5 Dora of Dallas**

Joan parked her car in front of the church again, and got out. "Please come along, Livy. I think that I can solve this, one way or another, but you have to be there." If it was God, she was sure to get some explanation at this point. If not-

"I can't go in – I'm forbidden." The girl looked frightened.

"All right, at least stand at the door and listen. In fact, it may be better if you aren't seen."

Joan opened the church door again.

"You again," said the churchwoman, who had apparently finished packing the decorations, and was now relaxing, sitting on one of the boxes. "What's going on?"

"I think I've got some information that will get Livy out of trouble," said Joan smoothly. "Please ask Mr. Phagan to come out again."

The woman did not seem pleased to take orders from Joan, but she had phrased her request carefully. The woman got on her cell phone again.

The bearded counselor entered once more. "You have information about Livy's case?" he asked. "Just who are you?"

"You don't know?" asked Joan. "You should. What's my younger brother's name?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"My older brother's name? My sister-in-law's?"

"How should I know that?"

"Livy! Come in!"

Livy walked in, looking bewildered.

"This guy isn't God," said Joan. "If he was, he'd be omniscient, and able to answer my questions." She turned back to Phagan. "Here's a last chance. What's my name?"

Phagan looked agitated as he realized that Joan had caught him in a trap. But that was nothing to Livy's reaction as she digested the implications. "Devil! Tempter! Yeearrgh—"

She charged at her counselor and started hitting him.

"Hey! Get her off of me!"

"Sorry," Joan said primly. "I only take orders from God. The real One."

As the churchwoman gaped in bewilderment, Joan said, "Mr. Phagan here apparently told Livy it was God's will for her to shoplift that electronics card. Why, I don't know, but I think your church ought to ask a few questions."

With that she made a triumphal exit from the church, then dashed for her car. She had not only managed to avoid mentioning her own missions for God, but avoided leaving her name. Now she had to leave before anybody spotted her car's license number. She didn't want to get tracked down later by a vindictive con man.

Livy's peculiar drift into crime was now explained, but there was still a mystery. Why did Mr. Phagan's bizarre scam resemble Joan's real situation so closely? Why had Livy been so gullible?

Joan reached her parent's house and parked in front. Going in, she saw Sister Lily sitting at the kitchen table with her laptop computer. Being several months with child, she did not rise to greet her sister-in-law, but seemed relieved to see her.

"Joan! I've been trying to reach your cell."

"I turned it off; I've been busy."

"At least you're here now. I've got something important to show you."

"Not now, Lily." Joan felt stressed out, and wanted to relax.

"It's God business - oooh, isn't it wonderful to be able to say that out loud now, without worrying about Kevin thinking I'm crazy?"

Joan sat at the table.

"I went out shopping, and met God," explained Lily, sounding as if she had run into her next-door neighbor. "I tried to ask Her about childbirth methods, but She sort of brushed that aside. She said I should stop worrying about that for a while, and get caught up on my reading. There's a web site that's specifically designed for church counselors, but I'd fallen behind, because of the baby. Look at this case study I found when I got back on today."

Joan circled to read the computer screen.

_One unusual feature of Dora's case is that she did not see any explicitly supernatural imagery. To her the "avatars", as she called them, appeared as normal human beings, even though she believed them to be the deity in disguise. My theory is that Dora's mind was trying to reconcile two versions of realities: that she was having a theophany, a vision of God, but at the same time knew that she was speaking to an ordinary human being. This shows that, at some level, Dora was trying to rationalize what she was experiencing, and that by appealing to her reason—_

"Who's Dora?" Joan asked in bewilderment.

"A pseudonym. 'The names have been changed to protect the innocent'. That's common in case studies. I think it's pretty obvious who Dora really is."

"But how-?" Joan scrolled up the blog to look at the author's name. "Caitlin O'Brien. Wait! There was a Miss Kate at Crazy Camp, one of the psychologists, and I heard one of the others address her as Caitlin at one point. She knew why I was at the camp. Did followups on my original interview with Dr. Dan, when I told him about my 'hallucinations'. Judith advised me to fake a recovery, and get Miss Kate off my ass – um, pardon me."

"Don't apologize. You have reason to be mad. It looks like Miss Kate violated your medical confidentiality, but I don't know why. Let me look at her bio." Sister Lily brought up another screen. "Hmm, assistant professor at Maryland State University. Maybe, under pressure to 'publish or perish', she thought she could get away with faking your permission to publish your case, on a specialized site, knowing you weren't likely to see it. After all, how many denizens of Crazy Camp have relatives that work in religious counseling? And even then, I might have missed it if God hadn't advised me to catch up. God wanted me to find this."

"Right. Let me tell you what I've been doing." She related the whole matter of Livy and the shoplifting to her sister-in-law. "I think I see what happened. Mr. Phagan is in the religion/counseling business, so he uses the website. He reads the Dora case, and receives a detailed description of how a girl will do weird things if she thinks she's been visited by God. Probably Livy had a crush on him, and that made her more gullible. So he took advantage—"

Sister Lily pounded the table with her fist. "I hate this! The vast majority of counselors are dedicated professionals, helping people in trouble, and for little pay. One bad apple can stink it up for all the rest of us."

"And there's still a mystery," mused Joan. "All this, just to get an electronics card? It's such overkill. I think we ought to bring Dad into this-"

TO BE CONTINUED


	6. Epilogue

**THUS SPAKE THE LORD**

**EPILOGUE**

A few days after Joan and Adam had settled back in their apartment, she received a long Email from her father. He was using the encryption system that Luke had devised several months before, to keep their sensitive communications from being eavesdropped on.

_Joan:_

_I know you want to hear the end of this, though it is still a bit open-ended. Mr. Phagan disappeared after your encounter with him, and we're still searching for him. I wish you hadn't scared him, but I suppose if you hadn't confronted him, we wouldn't know about the whole scam in the first place._

_Several other kids at the church admitted, under promise of legal immunity, that he had worked the God scam on them as well, tricking them to commit petty theft. Livy was just the first to be caught. Afterwards, if they refused to obey another "divine command", he would blackmail them over their original crimes. After all, these were religious children for whom the offenses were sins as well as crimes, and didn't want friends and family to learn what they had done. He didn't need the stolen objects themselves, he was just getting them into compromising circumstances._

_What was his goal in all this? I don't know, but I have two theories. One is simply that he was trying to organize a thieving ring, maybe stealing more valuable stuff as time went on. But it was a dangerous game; a single mis-step would blow the entire scam, as you proved._

_My other theory is that this God scam was a dry run for a bigger con game: a cult with himself at the center, issuing "divine" commands to worshippers who would accept everything he told them. I've gotten his photo from the church, and I'm going to circulate it among law enforcement officials who specialize in cults._

_And now, I'd like to discuss my thoughts about all this._

_I know, Joan, that you think I'm paranoid about your missions for God. But this case seems to be an example of how easy faith can be abused. What should one do if "God" tells somebody to do something unethical? My reaction would be, refuse to act until God tells me exactly what is going on. Never act on blind faith._

_You have been going on these missions for God for two and a half years, and it seems that every one of them has had "good ripples", as you put it. Acting blindly in this case, you successfully uncovered a nasty con game, the corruption of innocence, and I'm grateful for that. God seems to be honest. But you must always be on your guard._

_And now, I hope that you can put all this behind you and concentrate on your studies. Let other people fight evil for a change. After all, it's my job. _

Joan closed the window, then another popup appeared without her requesting it. She recognized the image, particularly since it seemed to have attributes beyond the powers of her computer.

"Hi," she said. "Do you resent Dad's attitude?"

"Not at all, Joan," said Popup God. "He simply takes the opposite view of the Euthyphro Dilemma than religious people do."

"The youthy what?"

"More than two thousand years ago, according to Plato, Socrates raised an interesting philosophical question. Do I, God, approve of an action because it is inherently virtuous? Or does an action become virtuous because I approve of it? Your father takes the former view, that virtue can exist independently of Me."

"But which answer is right?"

God smiled and closed the computer window, leaving Joan to think over the problem herself.

THE END


End file.
